


The Bottle Let Me Down

by lupwned



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eight
Genre: And Protective!Debbie, And all the deliciousness that comes with it, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, We have Drunk!Lou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: “You're just here because your little heist will go to shit without me.” She slurs her words slightly as she speaks.“You're a mean drunk,” Debbie comments.Lou sets the vodka down and flattens her palms against her desk. Debbie is actually amazed when she manages to stand upright. “Not mean,” Lou corrects. “Just honest.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't sensed a pattern, I am a bit obsessed with their "fight" at the water in the film. This is my third fic to expand upon this scene, and while each have their own resolution, I hope you enjoy this one too. 
> 
> Based on the Tumblr prompt: _Fic Prompt: Lou gets really drunk one night and Debbie is there to try and sober her up. Imagine in Lou’s drunken state, she admits her true feelings for Debbie and then the morning after — they have an awkward conversation about the words that were said the night before._

Barely five feet into the dimly lit club, Debbie remembers how much she loathes this kind of scene. Contrary to her life of delicious crime, she prefers her nights to be quiet and relaxing, lounging on the couch with her feet in Lou's lap and a container of Lo Mein noodles in her hands. The smell of body spray and vodka and sex is thick in the air as she moves to the middle of the dance floor. Debbie scrunches her face up in disgust as she pushes through the crowd to the staircase leading to Lou's office.

The office door is half open, and peeking through the sliver of space near the frame, she can see Lou at her desk, legs propped up with a bottle of Absolut in her hand. Except Debbie is certain that unlike the rest of what she serves in this seedy place, this particular vodka is not watered down. She pushes open the door and greets Lou with a soft, “Hey.”

Lou rolls her head in Debbie's direction. The thick mascara on her lashes is smeared beneath her eyes, and her usually sculpted face is red and swollen, likely from the dried tears on her cheeks and the half liter of vodka in her bloodstream. “How'd you know I was here?” Lou's voice is hoarse and low.

“Spidey senses.” Debbie walks further into the room. “Tammy messaged me. Said she was worried you might try to drive home after...” She waves toward the liquor bottle. “That.”

“Snitch,” Lou grumbles.

“She just cares about you.”

The hurt on Lou's face shines bright in the dark. She laughs curtly. “At least someone does.”

Debbie sighs, frustrated. “Would I be here if I didn't?”

Lou shrugs. “You're just here because your little heist will go to shit without me.” She slurs her words slightly as she speaks.

“You're a mean drunk,” Debbie comments.

Lou sets the vodka down and flattens her palms against her desk. Debbie is actually amazed when she manages to stand upright. “Not mean,” Lou corrects. “Just honest.” Walking, it seems, is a more difficult task, and after about two steps forward, Lou stumbles back, her tailbone crashing into the corner of the wood with a loud ' _smack_ '.

“Lou.”

She ignores her, breathing sharply through the pain.

“Lou.” Debbie says it again with more force.

Lou waves her away and reaches for the bottle, which Debbie promptly snatches away.

“ _Louise_. Stop this.”

 _That_ gets her attention. Lou's head snaps up and she freezes, her eyes locked with Debbie's as they stare each other down. Despite her cool, collected facade, there are fresh tears brimming, and there's a subtle tremble at her mouth and chin. Debbie wants to kiss her, but she's fairly certain Lou might slap her if she tries.

“Come home with me?” Debbie tiptoes forward, close enough that she can brush her fingertips over Lou's. When she doesn't pull away, Debbie takes her hand and squeezes it gently.

“My bike is here.”

“We'll get it in the morning.” Careful to avoid the bruise that's inevitably going to appear on Lou's lower back, Debbie wraps an arm securely around her waist and leads her to the doorframe.

“I might vomit in your car,” Lou warns.

Debbie laughs. “Joke's on you. It's your car, honey.”

“Shit,” Lou mutters. As they step back into the open space of the club, the music blares at an almost deafening level. Debbie can feel it vibrate up from the floor and through her boots, but even more, she can sense it in the way Lou winces and trembles beside her. “ _Jesus Fuck_ ,” she hisses. “Why is it so loud?”

“Take it up with the owner,” Debbie teases.

By some miracle, they manage to get to the car without Lou falling on her face. As Debbie sits her down into the passenger's seat and fastens the seatbelt around her, Lou watches out the window – forlorn, miles away, grey-blue eyes empty and broken. Debbie brushes a strand of blonde hair away from her face – a soothing gesture, but also hopeful to get her attention and make certain she hasn't slipped into some alcohol-induced coma. “Hey, you still with me?”

Lou blinks, then swallows hard. “Yeah, Deb. Always am. You should know that by now.”

Unsure how to respond, Debbie just nods slowly and wordlessly. She kisses the hair at Lou's temple before pulling away to close the car door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and make the author smile :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was going to only be two parts.
> 
> I lied.
> 
> Whoops.

Surprisingly, they manage to make it back to the loft without Lou vomiting. As they pull into the driveway, Debbie looks over at the passenger's side where Lou sits with her forehead pressed against the cold window and her eyes closed. When Debbie cuts off the engine, Lou's head rolls back onto the headrest of her seat, but she doesn't move beyond that, and Debbie's not sure whether she's just sleeping or holding back the urge to retch.

Stepping out of the car, Debbie moves to the passenger's side door and opens it carefully. Lou probably weighs 115 pounds wet, but she's tall and lanky and has a few inches on her, and with dead weight, Debbie's not exactly sure how she's going to get her up the stairs with both of them in one piece, but damn it, she's been in stickier situations than this and she'll do what she has to do. Just as Debbie's about to lift her up from her seat, Lou peeks open an eye and laughs. “I'm awake. Just wanted to see if you'd actually do it.”

Debbie rolls her eyes. “Asshole.”

With a bit of assistance, Lou's out of the car and on her feet, stumbling ever-so-gracefully to the front door. She fingers around at the inside of her jacket for her keys, despite the fact that Debbie is already in front of her with her own copy, switching open the lock and tugging her inside. “Where the fuck are my keys?” Lou asks, digging into the pockets at the back of her skintight leather pants.

Debbie spins the keyring around her index finger. “Took them.”

Lou raises an eyebrow. “Constance teach you that?”

Debbie shrugs.

“I need a drink.” And with that, Lou storms into the kitchen toward the liquor cabinet, which, in true ' _owner-of-a-club_ ' fashion, is fully stocked.

Debbie practically does a barrel roll across the room to snatch away the half liter of Grey Goose. “Gatorade.” She places a fruit punch flavored bottle of the sports drink in Lou's hands.

“Can I add vodka to it?” Lou's only half joking.

“No,” Debbie laughs. “Gatorade only.”

Pouting, Lou leans against edge of the counter and sips begrudgingly from the plastic bottle. “Can I ask you something?” She gulps down half the bottle in the five or so seconds it takes Debbie to answer.

Allowing Lou to ask anything while slightly drunk is a can of worms Debbie's not sure she wants to open. When the words leave her mouth, she's actually taken aback by it, an out-of-body experience she has no control of. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“What made him so much better than me?” Lou draws out the word ' _so_ ' just a bit, in a teasing, sing-song voice. “Did he look good in a tux? Because, I mean...” She pops her collar, then gestures up and down over the front of her body. “Come on now.”

Debbie snorts. “No. No one could ever look better than you in a tux, Lou.”

“Damn straight,” Lou quickly agrees with a wink.

“Do you want me to answer this honestly?”

Lou hesitates, chewing at her lower lip in a way that is oh so distracting. “Yes,” she eventually responds. “I do.”

“Money.” It's embarrassing to admit it, and Debbie finds it difficult to even look at Lou while she does. “You and I were living out of cars and cheap models. Rigging Bingo for fuck's sake. I just needed something...”

“Better,” Lou finishes. “You needed something _better_.”

Debbie sighs. “Not what I meant.”

“Well, give it a few weeks and I'll have more money than you could even imagine. Will you want me then?” Lou doesn't even try to mask the hurt in her voice, sharp and low and uneven. “You can go to bed now,” she practically hisses. “You don't have to stay with me. I'm totally fine.”

“No you're not.”

“Yeah, see?” Lou raises herself up onto the counter – or at least, she attempts to, as it ends with her falling on her ass, bright red Gatorade trickling over her jacket and down the front of the jet black vest over her chest. Debbie immediately crouches down to her level and holds her breath, waiting to see what Lou's reaction will be. She starts with a laugh – that short, airy kind that is always a precursor to something much worse.

“Lou? Are you ok?” Debbie scoots forward, her hand resting softly against Lou's forearm. Then Lou's face scrunches up and her shoulders shake as a sob racks her. With her head bowed, she cries silently until she's unable to choke back the noise anymore. It's an absolutely heartbreaking sight, and all Debbie wants to do in the moment is hold her and never let her go, or go back in time and stop herself from fucking everything up so badly. Over five years in jail had given her a hell of a lot of time to think about her life – all her triumphs and, most importantly, her mistakes. It takes until this very moment, though, for Debbie to stop and think about what Lou's life must have been like all this time. She may not have been jailed, but Lou'd still been caged in her own way.

With a sudden rush of adrenaline, Debbie picks Lou up onto her feet and leads her toward the bathroom. She's a sticky, dripping mess, and Debbie's not confident that showering alone wouldn't end in Lou inadvertently drowning. Keeping by her side, she switches the water on. As it heats up and patters behind them, Debbie slides her thumbs beneath Lou's jacket and carefully tugs it off her shoulders. “I'm going to undress you now, ok?”

Breathless from tears, Lou simply nods. Despite the intricacy and layers of her outfit, the soaked clothes fall to the floor with ease, and as Debbie leads Lou to the shower, she eyes her thin frame and the dark purple bruise spreading across her pale tailbone. Lou's always been thin, but she looks a bit more so than usual, and it makes Debbie wonder how exactly her partner has coped over those five years and eight months.

When the water – steaming, practically as hot as it can go – hits her skin, Lou hisses, but it's only a brief moment of pain before the warmth seeps into her bones and muscles. “Will you..” She lets her voice trail off as the water drips over her face and down her neck, but if over a decade of knowing each other has any benefit, there's nothing else that needs to be said, because Debbie is there by her side, stepping into the shower fully clothed to help.

Lou turns. “Deb, I...” She chokes back tears under the guise of the water, but Debbie's no fool.

“You don't have to say it,” she assures.

Lou cups her face. “I want to.”

Debbie nods, then combs her fingers through wet, dirty blonde hair and beats her to it with a kiss, swallowing the words she may regret in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and make the author smile :)


	3. Chapter 3

With the water trickling between them, they kiss slowly and lazily. There's no urgency, and even though the tension has been bubbling for years – decades, really – there is nothing needy or desperate about the way Debbie traces Lou's bare skin with her fingertips, dancing them up and down her forearm. The steam, paired with Lou's lips, make her slightly dizzy, lightheaded, drunk in her own way. At least the playing field is even now.

Debbie spins her finger in a circle and Lou complies, turning. Then Debbie's hands are in her hair, massaging, washing, the fruity smell of the shampoo filling the shower, and the little whimper of pleasure that falls from Lou's lips could easily bring Debbie to her knees. Even after Lou is sufficiently clean, they simply stand together in the shower, reveling in the closeness and intimacy they've been dancing around for ages.

The water is lukewarm by the time Lou's hands wander beneath Debbie's soaking wet clothing. They lock eyes as she unbuttons the top of the black blouse, slowly at first, but then with a little more urgency when she reaches the final two.

“Lou.”

She stops. “Hmm?”

“It's getting cold.”

Lou offers a quick nod, and there's a flash of pain on her face, the rejection she'd feared becoming reality.

“Come on.” Debbie switches the water off and laces their fingers together, gently and carefully guiding Lou out of the shower. Ignoring her own discomfort, her soaked through clothes an uncomfortable weight on her hips and shoulders, Debbie grabs the nearest towel and wraps it around Lou's thin, shivering body.

It's been awhile since she's been in Lou's room. The dimly lit space smells of cigarette smoke, cinnamon and mint, so uniquely _Lou_. There are leather pants and skintight t-shirts tossed over the back of a chair, and gold chains of various lengths and sizes hang on makeshift hooks Lou has nailed to one side of her wall. Debbie finds vests and tuxedos and blouses of every color and pattern imaginable, but nothing that seems suitable for pajamas.

“Do you have _anything_ casual to wear?” Debbie teases. “Or do you just sleep in a three piece suit?”

“Just the tie.” And there it is, Lou's signature snark.

Debbie snorts. “I've got plenty of t-shirts in my room.” As she walks down the hall to grab something from her dresser, she doesn't expect Lou to follow her. When she turns with an oversized “I <3 NY” tee from her pajama drawer, Lou stands in front of her, the towel wrapped loosely around the middle of her body but her shoulders bare. There's no high-fashion facade, no bold makeup. Just Lou. Beautiful, badass Lou.

In a swift movement, the towel falls to the floor and the t-shirt is out of Debbie's hands and over Lou's head. Once she's dressed, Lou stands a few inches in front of Debbie's bed, then looks over her shoulder at Debbie, who is just watching, staring, memorizing in her own quiet way. Lou raises one knee onto the side of the mattress and runs her hand along the sheet there. The movement lifts the bottom of the t-shirt up and Debbie eyes the purple mark once more, her fingers buzzing with the urge to touch it. “Does it hurt?”

And with everything that's happened, they both realize she's not just asking about the bruise.

Lou sighs. “I'm tired.”

“Ok.”

The silence is deafening.

Then Lou says, in a quiet voice, “Can I sleep here?”

"You own the place," Debbie answers with a smile. But the expression on Lou's face is soft as she looks toward her, and Debbie realizes she's _genuinely_ asking. “You never have to ask.”

As Lou slides into bed, Debbie finally shimmies out of her dripping, uncomfortable clothing, opting for an oversized white shirt from the very back of her dresser drawer. She hasn't worn it since before her prison days, but it's the longest she has, and for some strange reason – really, it's fucking _obvious_ , but she's not keen to admit it – she feels the tiniest bit self-conscious sleeping half-naked next to Lou. They've done it before, in shitty motels after small heists, living off the high of money and alcohol and each other, but it has never been this... _vulnerable_. Debbie doesn't know what it means, what the aftermath of these wordless confessions will be, and it terrifies her.

And when she's terrified, she runs.

Never again. For Lou's sake, she won't.

Lou, who starts curled up as far away as she can possibly be at one side of the bed with her legs pulled to her chest and her hands tucked delicately beneath her head. Lou, who, after falling asleep in record time, rolls over and shifts closer to Debbie in her unconscious state. Lou, whose head ends up on Debbie's chest and whose legs lightly entwine with hers. Lou, who murmurs incoherently in her sleep.

Debbie stays awake for hours listening to her. Holding her. _Being_ there.

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

The bed is empty when Debbie wakes. It doesn't surprise her, but there's a little pang of hurt in her chest as she rises. After using the bathroom and washing up, she walks into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, expecting to find Lou there. But after the emotional night they've had, Debbie realizes there's likely only one hiding place Lou's retreated to. She pours two cups of coffee – one with Irish cream and sugar, the other with half and half and one packet of Splenda (not that she knows Lou's coffee preference by heart) – and makes her way up to the balcony of the loft.

And there's Lou. With a pair of thick black glasses perched on her nose, she looks out at the city, occasionally puffing on the cigarette between her fingers. Debbie's t-shirt is gone, replaced with a tight white undershirt and a brown, corset-backed vest. The dark denim jeans she wears are a loose “boyfriend” cut that allows her to sit back with her legs spread in her signature pose.

“Morning.” Debbie hands one mug of coffee over to Lou and picks a seat beside her.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

Lou laughs. “Like shit. Guess I'm not as young as I used to be, right?”

Debbie shrugs. “I dunno, picking your ass up off the kitchen floor certainly brought back some memories.”

They both laugh again, softer this time, a bit awkward, trying and failing to ignore the tension in the air. Debbie wants to ask her. She'd spend the entire night with Lou in her arms trying to figure out the perfect thing to say. _I'm sorry. I'll fix this. Did you mean it? Let's make this work._

“So,” Lou begins, interrupting Debbie's stream of thought. “If we pull this off-”

“ _When_ ,” Debbie corrects. “There's no doubt. _When_.”

“Cocky. Ok, _when_ we pull this off, I was thinking about buying a new bike and heading out to California for awhile.”

The mouthful of coffee on Debbie's tongue suddenly burns a bit more. “Oh,” is all she manages to respond with.

Lou taps her short nails against the side of the ceramic. “Do you have plans yet, Deb?”

Debbie looks down at the ripples in the middle of her coffee cup. “Not sure.” And that's a lie, because she _was_ sure of one thing – Lou by her side.

“Come with me?”

Debbie blinks. “What?”

“California. You don't have to come right away. But maybe, once everything is squared away...” She hides her nerves behind the white mug in her hands.

“Yeah, Lou. I would love that.”

Lou cocks her head to the side. “You sure? Even after last night?” She raises an eyebrow, her own quiet way of acknowledging what had happened between them.

Debbie's stayed silent about it, not exactly sure how much Lou might actually remember amidst the blur of alcohol. Leaning forward in her seat, she reaches out and lazily fingers the gold bracelet at Lou's wrist. “Absolutely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm obsessed with Cate Blanchett in glasses, so my headcanon is that Lou is blind as a bat but rarely wears her glasses except in the morning.
> 
> So the conversation they have at the end is a little less awkward than prompted and a little more HOPEFUL but I couldn't help it...sorry not sorry.
> 
> Your comments fuel the author. TRULY. If you've enjoyed this piece or would like to read more in the future, take a second below to say hi and share your thoughts :) And thank you for reading!
> 
> (Or come over to [Tumblr and leave a prompt or say hi](http://awomanontheverge.tumblr.com/). But make sure to leave a comment below first ;D )


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